… In my head, I turned my April 6th due date into a mental due date of March 9th (when I hit 36 weeks). Since then I’ve tried everything to get this baby to come out. And in my head, it seems entirely unfair that I’ve had to carry him for a full 37 weeks now, as if it’s something strange to carry a baby even one day past 36 weeks. I’m conveniently forgetting that I carried my first to 41 1/2 weeks. Why is it that all of a sudden 40 weeks seems like torture on a grand scale? I actually walked around the house last night after the kids were in bed muttering “dumb uterus… stupid womb…” Somewhere between 35 and 37 weeks, bitterness set in. I wonder if this is normal… And would a 4th pregnancy be even worse? (That is, if I should suffer temporary insanity and decide to get pregnant again)

4 thoughts on “Somehow…

  1. Ok, I totally understand. πŸ™‚ I have had six babies. Each time, I was sooooo ready to get that baby out by 36 weeks. When I got to 38 weeks with my second baby, I had had enough. I was having horrible Braxton-Hicks contractions — painful ones that were an awful inconvenience. I was miserable. I went to my doctor on that Friday and told him I couldn’t be pregnant much longer. He said I wasn’t ready to induce. He’d check me the next week. I actually called him after I got home and cried on the phone. I told him he must not have completely understood what I meant in his office. I could not be pregnant another second. I couldn’t sleep; the contractions were horrible; I was really just about as miserable as I could be. He had to help me have this baby. He tried not to laugh at me, and he patiently explained that if he induced me, it would result in a C-section because I really wasn’t ready. Then he said, “But how about I give you something to help you sleep. I think you’ll feel much better after a full night’s sleep.”

    I still can’t believe I called him in tears five minutes after I got home from his office.


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